


white flag

by retorica



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Slow Burn, after all this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 23:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14629125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retorica/pseuds/retorica
Summary: 5x01 compliant. And he lifts his eyes to hers, the enemy, the lover, the friend, the constant torment.





	white flag

**Author's Note:**

> they've managed to awaken my old, slumbering KC dragon....

_And when we meet_  
_Which I'm sure we will_  
_All that was there_  
_Will be there still_

***

 

“I mourned your husband,” he says almost imperceptibly as his thumb swipes the cold sheen of her wedding ring. “He and I shared some good times.”

_Good times._

 Caroline feels the urge to draw away from his touch, even though he’s not _quite_ touching her. But maybe that’s worse – the fact that he is leaving his imprint on the symbol of her unconsummated love. She’s almost jealous. Klaus had more time with Stefan than her; he can reminisce about him at length. Her memories are tainted by the brevity of her married life and the single strike which ended it.

Bells toll in the distance. The afternoon is coming to an end. The sun is flashing its goodbye.

She never got to see the sunset over Paris with Stefan, as she is doing now with Klaus.

It feels like a betrayal, but everything does. It’s been more than a decade and she has not reconciled herself with the stages of grief.

“Oh,” she says simply. “Sorry you weren’t invited to the funeral.”

She means to put a little bite in her voice. After all, this is _her_ pain and she has no room for him in it. But her words come out too soft. She inhales sharply.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to indispose you anyway,” he drawls, leaning casually against the wrought iron. “I sent a wreath.”

“Did you? I don’t remember.” She remembers. She left it untouched, wrapped in its decorative foil in a corner at the funeral home.

“I hope you know how sorry I was to hear –”

“There’s no need to comfort me now, Klaus. It’s been awhile. Also, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not cut out for this sort of talk.”

The Original smiles limply. “Very well.”

“But thank you, I guess. I appreciate it,” she rectifies after a moment. After all, they are being civil to each other. They’re old friends, aren’t they? Old something, anyway.  

They both stare away from each other. The Parisian avenues unwind before them like luminous snakes and she thinks _how can beauty be so nauseating?_

She almost wants to go back into the foyer and stare at the dead bodies.

“Don’t thank me too much. A part of me mourned him, yes. But a part of me cowardly cheered.”

Her eyes snap back to him. The bells are still tolling.  She thinks she hasn’t heard him right. An image flashes before her eyes; the crypt where her husband is buried and Klaus lowering her body against the marble, preparing her for something unspeakable. She blinks away the corruption.

He contemplates the granite floor without really seeing it. “I would deny that part of me, but it’s difficult when you are here.”

“Don’t,” she shakes her head. She keeps shaking it while her fingers latch onto her wedding ring. “It’s been ages. You don’t feel that way about me anymore. You can’t.”

Klaus chuckles to himself, still refusing to meet her eye. “We’re immortal, darling. What are _ages_ to us?”

“That was high school, I was a kid. You weren’t even a father –”

“Yes, I suppose fatherhood should have made me wiser. But here you are, trying to coax me into responsibility."

"Hope deserves better," Caroline insists, clinging to the name of his daughter.

"Yes, she does. Better than me."

"No, not better - you _are_ enough for her."

"She is everything to me. And I still love you," he says in one breath. 

The statements collide, almost seem to crush each other, but they don't. They shouldn't go together, but they do. No one should be able to say words like these. 

“Don’t worry, love. I will not embarrass you with romantic overtures," he assures her almost dismissively.  "I don’t have it in me, anyway. Even if you were ready, I would not attempt to woo you. I’d abhor it. I am only letting you know.” And he lifts his eyes to hers, the enemy, the lover, the friend, the constant torment. “Letting you know that I don’t have to. I am set in my ways. I have loved others and I cherish their memory. That does not change this." 

Caroline dreads the last statement, the eternal promise enclosed in his words. What he told her on graduation has never altered. He will be her last love.

And suddenly, she is afraid of the future. It seems so uncertain. She is afraid it will happen. She is afraid it won’t. Maybe they’ll miss their chance again. Maybe the reality won’t be as good as they thought. Maybe wedding rings are in vain if the heart still strays.  

Or maybe…

 _Maybe you’ll stop loving me_ , she thinks, staring at Klaus.

He stares back with unnerving stillness. _Never._

There is terror and comfort in that.

Caroline slips her wedding ring inside her blouse. For a moment, just one, she wants to let him put his arm around her waist and draw her forward. She doesn’t want a kiss, she wants a sharp bite. What she misses most about her fond enemy is the ruthless way he could tear into her throat.

“I’ve got a plane to catch,” she mutters, stepping away from him. “See you at the next parent-teacher meeting.”

She grabs the ledge and jumps off the balcony. Caroline Forbes always manages to be graceful, even when she does not prepare for it. She lands haphazardly in the small alley below, but she rises without a pause.

Still, her impetuous goodbye betrays her. Everything does. She bites her tongue. She won’t look up. She won’t turn around. She’ll just keep walking.

She can feel his gaze, diminishing, but still there.

Klaus follows her with his eyes. The blue light of dusk cascades around her shoulders. He has a lifetime of watching her come and go.

He smiles to himself. A lifetime and many more.


End file.
